


Memories Shouldn't Always be Remembered

by So_many_issues



Series: Breaking [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Dean Winchester, Abusive John Winchester, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bi Dean, Can you tell I hate John Winchester?, Child Neglect, Claustrophobic Dean, Cutting, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean has a lot of issues, Flashbacks, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Bi Dean, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester Abuses Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Panic Attacks, Passing Out, Protective Dean Winchester, Self-Harm, Smart Dean Winchester, Starvation, carving, implied - Freeform, money issues, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_many_issues/pseuds/So_many_issues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a normal week or so in the life of Dean Winchester. Or at least what he remembers. He can't remember everything, just take care of Sam and don't disobey Dad. But everything has a breaking point. Even a Winchester. TRIGGER WARNING. CARVING, ABUSE, SELF-WORTH ISSUES. Please don't read if this is triggering. </p><p>((Work is actually good I promise))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Shouldn't Always be Remembered

The black paint of the impala glints as she drives along the road. Lead by the gentle steering of John Winchester; she pulled up into the Nite Owl Inn. John Winchester treated that car nicer than he did his own sons, but that wasn’t saying much now was it? The eldest man walked in to order a room, giving his 16 year old son, Dean, a look telling him to take care of the bags and the youngest Winchester. Dean crisscrossed 3 duffle bags across his chest and once the bags were secure he scooped up his 12 year old slumbering brother and took him to the room they were staying in. The musty smell of the room hit him straight away. He scrunched up his face and he placed Sam down in a bed, took off his shoes, and tucked him in, the similarity to when he did this to John was not lost on him. But he leaned down and gave him a light kiss on his head, and he didn’t smell like whiskey.  He laid down the duffels and looked up to see his father take the only other bed. He let out a heavy sigh and stripped a passed out John of his boots, and threw some covers over him. He pulled out the salt and lined the windows and the door with a thick line. He turned around to see that Sam had become an octopus and taken up the entire bed, and there was no way that he could share a bed with John. He sighed and pulled two sheets from the linin closet. He laid one down on the floor, and the other over him, because _no way in hell_ was he touching the floor. He used his arm as a pillow and let the exhaustion finally win and take over him.

 

He woke up early that morning to a sharp pain in his back. He looked up and on his bed he saw a dirty white rat with beady red eyes sinking his little teeth into Dean’s back. _DIRTY._  He quickly flipped over, pushing the rat off him as the rising sun quickly met his eyes and his pupils painfully retracted. He sat up in his make-shift excuse for a bed. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and went into the bathroom for a shower, the grout between the tiles was stained and had mold growing on it, but the tub was mostly clean. He turned on the spray and allowed it to heat up. He stripped of his shirt and boxers and looked in the partially cracked mirror. He looked over his bruised chest and delicately prodded at his ribs. They weren’t broken, just badly bruised. But they still hurt like hell. Carrying the bags like he had hadn’t done him any favors. No one really did him any favors, maybe he just wasn’t worth it. _WORTHLESS._   As he stepped into the warm spay, careful not to touch the suspicious fungus on the wall, he let his father’s previous insults hit him. His words probably hit him harder than any punch, kick, or bottle ever could. He couldn’t let Sam touch this though, both the fungus he’d later bleach, and this dark side of his brain. _FUCK-UP_. He let the water run over and massage his aching muscles and he ran some soap through his hair. 15 minutes later he stepped out. After patting himself dry he dressed again and entered the room. When he opened the bathroom he was greeted with an upset John. He slapped dean across the face and murmured something about waiting. Dean let his hand travel up to his face and he hoped it wouldn’t bruise. He couldn’t let Sam know about this.  

Half an hour later John threw a stack of twenties at Dean and told him to take care of Sam. Dean sighed at the money. Every time it just got thinner and thinner and John was gone for longer and longer.  The only advantage to that is that Dean didn’t have to worry about the beatings. He knew that selfish, god it was selfish, but John seemed like he got drunker and drunker and angrier and angrier, and it was becoming harder to hide. Or maybe he just couldn’t do it right _. DUD._   Dean sighed and upon looking at clock decided to wake up Sam. They walked to school, only about a mile away this time, and got registered. Dean signed them up, easily copying John’s signature. Then they went they’re separate ways to classes. Dean didn’t take much interest in his education. He got high enough marks on test, and the class work was just stupid. Besides he was told time and time again that he was too useless to do anything but hunt, and hunting didn’t require a diploma so neither did he.  He spent the day mouthing off and flirting with his peers. He joined the kids in the back alley that smoked and leeched a cigarette. His watched beeped and singled him it was time to pick Sammy up. He started walking, hoping the smell would wash off him as he went. He picked up a slow jog and was soon there. He couldn’t help but feel a little prideful he could keep a jog and not lose his breath, even with his ribs. Fucking steel-tipped boots.

“Heya Sammy, how was school?”

“Fine. We going shopping?”

                “Sure.” Dean inwardly frowned. He wanted to just sneak out and grab some knock off mac-and-cheese. He needed to stretch the money out, incase John decided to take his time. And if not, then he could get Sam a new backpack. The kid needed a new one soon. But if Sam went with him he would insist on the good stuff, and that wouldn’t leave him with much money for some badly needed bandages. The latest cut from john’s bottle went deeper than Dean thought. It was also swelling around the sutures and being a little too leaky. And the ace bandage he used to set ribs was becoming worn out. And ace bandages were expensive. When they went Sam seemed hell bent on wasting all they’re money, but with a few sneaky switch outs from name-brand items, Dean managed to spend about half his money. Christ, they didn’t even get that much food. If they both ate it would last them less than a week. Guess he wouldn’t be eating. Again. Dean sighed and plopped down the bags on the table. He cooked half a box of mac and cheese and placed the bowl down in front of Sam before flopping down on the bed.

“You’re not going to eat?”

“Nah I ate before.”

“Oh yeah? What did you eat?”

“I think her name was Cindy? Mindy?”

“Ew Dean!” Dean smirked at his brother’s disgust. That was really all it took to get Sam off his back. Dean was at least glad for that. He could explain away why he was so late with bruises all over him with a really kinky girl next-door instead of a john that got a little rough. Some one naive enough to be believe those stories was some one that’s not prepared to handle the truth.  And he couldn’t live with himself if he knew that Sam had to worry about him. No because he was good. He was.

“I’m good.” He said quietly, trying to convince himself, “I’m good.”

“Did you say something Dean?”

“Hm? No, nothing.” Sam just shrugged and continued to scribble down on his math homework. His face scrunched up and he shoveled a bite of mac and cheese in his mouth. He frowned at his paper.

“Dean, do you know anything about the Ply..tha…gore…ean theorem?”

“Uh, maybe…?” Dean walked to the other side of the table and looked at this paper and read over the problems. He grabbed a pencil and solved the first of many.

“Wait how did you do that?”

“Here, so you take these two legs, 8cm and 10cm, and multiply them by themselves, then add that together, and find the square root of the sum.”

“Huh?”

“It’s _a^2+b^2=c^2_ but you want to find just _c_ , so you would just find the root of _c^2_ ”

“Are all those letters secretly numbers?”

“Yeah, so the longest line, is called the hypotenuse. Or _c_ , any of the two legs, those two lines that make the right angel, are _a_ and _b_.”

“I didn’t think you were smart, thanks Dean.” _STUPID._ Dean ruffled Sam’s hair and walked to the shower, telling Sam he’s only be cleaning up a mess he made before and that he’d be  out in a few if he needed anymore help. He walked into the musty bathroom. The layers of grime made it impossible for him to fix that much. Dean rummaged through the shelf underneath the sink and found something resembling bleach. He took note of the large red warning sign that tried to deter people from getting too close to it. He wasn’t sure if it was just the motel not wanting people using it or an actual warning. He shrugged and grabbed a once white towel and poured the not quite bleach onto it. As he started scrubbing his eyes burned, and as much as he tried to breathe through his shirt sleeve he still was inhaling the chemicals. He wouldn’t be able to say how long it took him to get that mold off. The time followed in his vison’s footsteps and all started running together, and gods, he couldn’t see anything. When he finished his hands were bright red and throbbing. Sighing, he ran the shower, and let it rinse away whatever chemical he used, and washed his hurt hand. The shower looked presentable, or at least better than it was before. He picked himself and sank down into the bed that John slept in the night before. The bed still stunk of the alcohol John had sweated out. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam grumbling as he washed the dishes.

“What’s wrong?” Sam just shook his head and scrubbed harder.

“Use your words Sammy.”

“It’s Sam! And I’m sick and tired of always doing everything! I can’t be normal because I’m stuck in this family that I hate!” Dean was pretty sure that being ripped open and used as bait was less painful. He sighed and got up, straining his ribs, and began rummaging through his bag. He threw a 10$ bill at Sam that he was saving for a new Ace bandage.

“Then go get some ice-cream or a book or something.” Dean said, not letting his pain show.

“You think that fixes anything!?! I’m just coming back to family of freaks? Nothing you could do means anything!”

“Do you want the damn money or not?”

“You mean it?” Sam said in disbelief, all his anger being cover by a thin vail of hope.

“Yeah kiddo, anything to make you happy. Just, be careful okay?” Without another word Sam ran off with his 10$. Dean started on the dishes. _FAILURE. INCAPABLE._ He let his brothers words wash over him. He hated his family? He hated Dean? Sam didn’t even know what he was. _FAGGOT._ He didn’t know that their own father didn’t love. _UNLOVED._  Dean couldn’t do it. Sammy was supposed to love him. Sammy was the reason Dean cautioned himself. He learned by now that John never would. Who was supposed to take care of him? He was a kid too. No, no, He’d grown up at 4, when he started having to feed Sammy bottles. But still, who was Dean supposed to go to? Maybe he just didn’t deserve it. And maybe that’s why his mom died. Was he that much of a fuck-up he tore his family to shreds? But a lot of people survived without support. _WEAK._ He supposed he was just a girl about it. He was pretty enough to be one. _PRETTY BOY._ He couldn’t deal with the emotions Sam had just released. He had them all behind a dam for a reason. He knew he wasn’t worth what he was given, and he knew he was never normal, but to hear that word out of his own brother’s mouth. It broke him, it took all he had to keep his façade up. _FREAK._ He looked down at his hands saw them trembling. Dean didn’t know if it was the chemicals or the mind-boggling knowledge that Sam hated him, that he had failed as his brother’s protector, that he was a failure. His mind filled with panic. He had to get out. He couldn’t, he couldn’t stay in this shitty motel room.  With trembling hands he threw the door open and started running. He ran and ran and ran. He ran with the same purpose he seemed to have, none at all. Now that he knew that Sam thought nothing of him, that he failed, what was the point of his existence? He was in the way, a burden, and nothing but a solider. And it seemed that he even failed at being that. _SOLDIER._ His lungs burned, and he could barely breathe. A panic attack was setting in. He couldn’t focus, so he ran harder. Until he tripped on a tree branch. He skidded to a stop and flipped over on his back.

Breathe

He closed his eyes

Breathe

Focus on the pain Winchester

No

No

No

NO

_“D-daddy?”_

_“You’re too old to call me that, Dean.”_

_“Y-y-yes sir”_

_“And what’s with that stupid stutter?”_

_“Sssorry sir.” Dean remembered how hard it was to force those few words._

_“Are you stupid boy?”_

_“No sir.”_

_“Yeah you are, you ain’t getting anywhere.”_

_“S-sir,” Dean cursed himself and tried again. “Sir, what are we doing?”_

_“You’re going to tell me what the hell happened on the hunt.” Dean inwardly cringed. He didn’t know what happened. He was only about 6, but John wanted him to see a real hunt, so he dropped little Sammy at Bobby’s and they hit the road. But that stupid spirit was powerful, and he got distracted trying to not shoot his dad with rock salt and a stupid wardrobe fell on him leaving him trapped. John didn’t notice that Dean was missing until after he salted and burned the remains. But after a little while, John could hear sirens, and he hightailed it out of there. That’s when they found Dean. 6 hours after, unconscious, covered in his own tears, vomit, urine, and blood, because whoops, that spirit had been pretty feisty. Dean was taken to the hospital, cleaned up and put in a room. Even at 6, he knew what lies to give the authorities. That night John came back, they got out and now here they are._

_“Dean, snap out of it and tell me what happened.”_

_“Sorry sir.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“I-I was tryin to get a good shot, and it sneaked up on me, and th-th-then a w-wardrobe f-falled on m-me. I g-g-g-got scared and I w-was b-bb-b-bleeding real good, and I p-p-passed out. Th-th-then I got taken to the h-hospital. And that’s when you came.”_

_“That’s pathetic Dean.” John spat, his words as harsh as the slap that followed. And then the shove that knocked Dean down. And then the kick with those steel tipped shoes that would leave a bruise. Dean wasn’t sure how long the beating lasted, but he remembered the next words;_

_“Focus on the pain, Winchester.”_

                Old scars felt like they were on fire. He scrunched his eyes and tried to distract himself. He thought of the way his mother used to hold him close, he thought of the way she sung Hey Jude to him, and how he would sing that to Sammy now. He thought of his ring, and the pendant that Sam had given him. He thought about that stupid Sapphire Barbie he got Sam. And suddenly he was laughing like a mad man. He curled up on his side, bruised ribs be damned and laughed his ass off. He stopped eventually and pushed himself back on his feet.

Woah

He grabbed the closest bench for support. He didn’t normally feel this bad. Just a head rush, it’d go away, right? Wrong. He couldn’t shake this stupid thing. He slowly began to make his way home. He stumbled and tripped along the way. He probably looked like he was wasted, but this felt so much worse. His stomach was lighting a fuse. He could barely raise his arms, or drag his feet to the motel. He finally was able to push that stupid door open. Sam was waiting for him.

“Dean! What the hell! I come back and you’re gone. You’re supposed to be taking care of me.” And now Dean remembered why he’d run out in the first place. Because gods, that really fucking hurt.

“ _Sorry”_ Dean slurred.

“Dean?”

“hmmmmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“ _whywouldn’t Ibe?_

“You’re slurring your words, and your eyes are all bloodshot.”

“ _‘mfine_ ”

 

That’s the last thing Dean managed before everything went to black.

 

He woke up slowly and painfully. Everything was white and sterile. Hospital. Fuck. Soon a doctor opened the door. He gave Dean a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re awake. We have a few things to discuss.”

“What do you want doc?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital. And I’d like to not be, so make it quick.”

“Well then let’s start with why you’re here. You passed out because of a lack of food. Despite your healthy appearance you’re severally malnourished. When you came in we run a toxscreen and it revealed that you have been exposed to a very dangerous chemical. However, what may have concerned us the most, was your physical examination.”

_FUCK_

“We saw severe bruising on your ribs, back, and legs. We saw welts and scars all along your back. But, we also saw evidence of carving. We saw very, distinct, words carved in your legs.  Words like, ‘dirty, worthless, fuck-up, dud, stupid, failure, incapable, unloved, faggot, weak, solider, pretty boy, and more.’”

Dean didn’t remember that. But Dean didn’t remember much. Just look after Sammy, and don’t question dad. That’s all he needed to remember. He didn’t pay much mind to his memories being missing. That’s when John cleared his throat from the doorway. He threw Dean’s clothes at him. They checked out AMA and this week and the beating that followed went into the memories Dean didn’t like to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> I might make this a series, or do a few things with it. Comment any request for fics, or if you want me to do anything with it. Remember, I live on comments, so please do comment. Thanks for reading!


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